


Course Correction

by ruination_fangs



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-07-03 16:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruination_fangs/pseuds/ruination_fangs
Summary: After leaving her alone for the holidays, Velvet's goody-two-shoes parole officer comes back into her life with a vengeance. Velvet may finally have met her match in stubbornness... and somehow that doesn't bother her as much as it should.Somewhat of a sequel toFrom Gray to Green to Gold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this as taking place in the same universe as my last modern AU berseria fic, so you can consider it a sequel if you're so inclined. I promise the Velvet/Magilou part isn't as over as it may seem ;)
> 
> funny that I thought up a whole modern AU for berseria and then wrote all of this, which is... completely different

Velvet arrives home nearly soaked. The end of winter has seen the snow turn to rain, buckets of it, and while simple preparation could have prevented this, Velvet has never been much for umbrellas. She wouldn't have taken one with her even if she owned one.

Which is why she steps into her apartment dripping all over, water running off her hair and her coat into a puddle on the floor. The moment she takes her boots off the moisture starts to seep into her socks, too. She curses under her breath, but doesn't stop; like hell she's tracking her muddy shoes across the carpet.

"You look like you're having fun," a voice says from farther into the living room, and Velvet looks up. Through the wet bangs hanging in her face she gets one glance of Magilou walking toward her; then something soft and white descends over her head.

Velvet rips it off, straightening up and preparing to send it back Magilou's way twice as hard - but it's a towel, fresh and dry. Grudgingly Velvet runs it over her head and down her hair, stepping away from the door.

"And you look awfully dry," she says as she gets a proper look at Magilou, who's now lounging nearby in perfectly comfortable sweatpants and a hoodie. "How long have you been here?"

Magilou shrugs. "Oh, a while."

That tells Velvet absolutely nothing, but she doesn't pursue it. She's actually gotten used to having Magilou around at all odd hours now. Ever since their relationship developed into... well, whatever this is. Certainly more than mere companionship, but without any of the structure Velvet could call "dating."

As soon as she's no longer dripping, Velvet heads across the room in the direction of the kitchen. On her way past she flings the used towel toward the couch, where it happens to land right in Magilou's face.

"Hey!" she squawks, clawing it aside. Velvet smirks.

She gets halfway through heating up a kettle of water before Magilou joins her in the kitchen.

"Soooo," Magilou starts in immediately, leaning against the counter. "Have you given any more thought to my little proposal?"

Velvet sighs. "I'm not going to buy a motorcycle, Magilou. I've never even had a car."

"You don't _need_ a car if you have a motorcycle!" Magilou launches right into her debate points, clearly having foreseen Velvet's answer. "And the motorcycle is cheaper!"

"Cheaper to buy," Velvet insists as the kettle starts to rumble. "It costs money to maintain. Plus it's cold in the winter, and more dangerous-"

"Baah." Magilou waves a hand dismissively. "Since when do you shy away from a little danger?"

The kettle begins to whistle, and Velvet flips the heat off, frowning. "It's just too much of a hassle to deal with right now." She reaches for the mug she left on the counter behind Magilou and suggests, "How about a scooter instead? It's basically the same thing."

"No no no, that's a _completely_ different image-"

"Hold on," Velvet says suddenly, digging her hand into her pocket. And Magilou actually does - the room goes quiet enough for both of them to hear her phone buzzing.

For a moment Velvet is grateful, but then her eyes light on the caller ID and immediately narrow.

"You gonna answer that?" Magilou asks, stepping closer.

"No," Velvet decides. "It's my parole officer. Probably just wants to nag me about something again."

The phone continues to vibrate in Velvet's hand. She waits it out, unmoving.

"Oh. Hume, right? Eleanor Hume?" Suddenly Magilou is right behind her, trying to peer around Velvet's shoulder. "Ha! You got a real gem there."

Velvet hurriedly tries to snap the phone shut, but Magilou is faster; her hand around Velvet's stops her, and she grins at the screen.

"That her? Oh, she's cute. I can see why you'd keep her picture."

Magilou's coy smile flashes in Velvet's direction for a second before she abruptly unattaches herself, casually moving just out of Velvet's reach. Velvet shuts the top of the phone with a little more force than necessary.

"She gave me the picture, to remind me who she was," Velvet growls. "As if I'd forget. She's always on me about something or other."

Magilou raises her eyebrows; Velvet's scowl deepens.

"So you know her?" Velvet asks, less because she cares and more to derail Magilou's train of thought.

Magilou shrugs. "I know _of_ her, yes. She's young, but apparently pretty hardcore. As far as starry-eyed good girls go, I guess."

"Hmph." Velvet slides her phone back into her pocket. "Well, she hasn't done much for me other than preach and set me up with an awful dead-end job so I can pay my rent."

"What else are they for, eh?" Magilou sighs and drags a chair out from the table so she can sit down. "So as I was saying-"

Velvet turns back to the kettle with only one ear tuned in to Magilou's ramblings. It's all well and good to ignore her phone for a day or two, but she already knows she's going to have to answer eventually. Hume probably wants something, and if Velvet knows anything about her, it's that she won't quit until she gets it.


	2. Chapter 2

Eleanor Hume's office looks exactly how Velvet would expect it to: neat and tidy, with utilitarian furniture and splashes of cheery color to brighten up the small space. The only thing missing is some sort of poster with cheesy platitudes and pictures of kittens.

The woman herself is just as proper, in a professional blouse and long skirt with her auburn hair pinned back. She invites Velvet inside in a tone that's polite, but still authoritative - welcoming with a chill just at the edges, to remind Velvet who's in charge here.

Tch. Hume may think she's a force to be reckoned with, but all her power stems from some sense of _morality_ and _lawfulness_ , and those are optional in the grand scheme of things. Velvet could rip her apart if she wanted to.

She sits down in the chair Eleanor offers her and waits for the officer to straighten up the papers on her desk. Perhaps she was hoping Velvet would start the conversation; she spends far too long tidying up the file and glancing over its first page while Velvet sits in sullen silence.

Nope. Hume is the one who demanded this meeting, so she's going to have to get out of the car and push it herself.

Finally, she looks up. "So, how are things going?"

Velvet raises an eyebrow. "How do you think?"

"I want to hear it from you. Are you still employed?"

"Yes," Velvet grunts. "And applying for better jobs regularly."

Eleanor nods. "Good. Your living situation is okay?"

"It's fine."

"You still live alone?"

Velvet's eyes narrow. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm just curious about potential collateral contacts." Eleanor pushes another paper a millimeter to the side. "You seem to be a very private person. Since you don't exactly volunteer information, it would help me to be in touch with any friends or family who can tell me about changes in your life."

"Yeah, well." Velvet looks to the side, gazing out the window. "You know how much help my family is going to be."

Eleanor continues to watch her for a few seconds before going on, "And your friends?"

Velvet shifts in her seat.

"I've heard you're still friends with Miss Mayvin, from Titania."

Velvet opens her mouth and then pauses, unsure where to begin. _Still_ friends? Does Eleanor even know Magilou? And more importantly...

"How do you know that?"

There's an equal amount of authority and innocence in Eleanor's features as she replies, "Apparently Miss Mayvin mentioned it at her last parole meeting. She seemed quite happy about it." Eleanor coughs lightly into her fist. "I suppose I shouldn't share any of the details of her own meetings, but it seemed relevant. I was glad to know you have someone to talk to."

Velvet snorts. "More like someone to talk at me."

Ignoring that comment, Eleanor asks, "Is Miss Mayvin your only friend?"

"What's it to you?"

Eleanor sighs. "I'm just concerned. In all other respects, you seem to be doing fine, but socially..."

Velvet has to suppress a scoff. "I don't need friends to live. And it's not in my _terms_."

"That's not my concern. It's just... if your only contacts are people like _that_..."

That makes Velvet's eyebrows rise. "What's that supposed to mean?"

But Eleanor seems to regret starting that sentence. Her expression turns almost bashful as she continues, "Miss Mayvin is... well, a repeat offender, for one. She doesn't seem to have any intention of learning from her mistakes."

Velvet deflates again. "That's all? You just don't like her because she's not all innocent like you."

"No, it's-" Eleanor takes a deep breath. "I'm _worried_  about you. You are still on parole, you know. At this point any major infraction could send you right back to prison. I just hope you're not being encouraged down the wrong path; it's dangerous for an ex-convict to spend all their time with criminals."

Trying not to roll her eyes, Velvet stands up. "Okay, mom. If you're done policing who I hang out with, I should be getting home."

"Not just yet."

Velvet pauses, tensing. Has she been too abrasive this time? She knows it's not a good idea to piss off someone who has so much power over her future, but god, she hates these meetings. She hates being talked down to, she hates being told what she can and can't do, and, truth be told, she kind of hates Eleanor.

At least Eleanor doesn't seem to be mad. "I'm not going to ask you to stop seeing her," she says. "I'm just reminding you, if you do get caught doing anything wrong the punishment is going to be worse this time. Not least because you're an adult now."

"So?" Velvet remains standing next to her chair. "I was tried as an adult last time."

"Yes, but the fact that you were only seventeen may have made the jury more lenient. That could have factored in to why they gave you assault instead of the second degree attempted the prosecutor wanted. _And_  next time you'll be a repeat offender with a violent record. That never looks good."

Velvet grits her teeth. Eleanor may have a point, but that's certainly not why she didn't get slammed with attempted murder. _That_ was because Artorius, for whatever reason, refused to testify that Velvet had threatened to kill him - even though he certainly heard her screaming it over and over at the time. Without that surefire evidence of intent to kill, and with her failure to critically injure him, the most she could be convicted of was aggravated assault instead.

A lucky break. It shaved years off her sentence, and she still doesn't know why he did it.

Thinking about Artorius only serves to worsen her mood, and she growls, "Can I go now? Or do you want a detailed list of everyone I've spoken to this year?"

Eleanor's aloof demeanor returns, and she replies without looking up from her folder.

"Yes, I believe that's enough for today. But I'd advise you to watch your temper. You know they wanted to make anger management courses part of your parole terms." Her casual tone does nothing to hide the threat in her voice as she adds, "I don't want to have to recommend counseling at your next hearing."

_Like hell you don't_ , Velvet thinks, but she makes sure to unclench her fists before she leaves. Her skin still stings from how hard her fingernails were pressed into her palms.


	3. Chapter 3

Perhaps Eleanor had been giving her a little more space to breathe over the holidays, or perhaps Velvet has been neglecting her own reports. Or maybe Magilou had just been enough of a distraction that she didn't think about it. Either way, it feels like Eleanor is demanding more and more of Velvet's time, and she's already tired of it.

She knows it's a dangerous mindset to be in, because Eleanor is right: one wrong move and she can go right back behind bars, and it's Eleanor who gets to decide whether each of her moves are wrong or not. In a way, she's been lucky. As obnoxious as Eleanor is, she doesn't do house calls or monitor everything Velvet does nearly as much as some of the other probation officers Velvet has heard of. She actually has been keeping Velvet on a fairly loose leash, considering. But Velvet knows that as soon as she sees something serious she'll pounce.

Maybe she considers Magilou's presence to be serious, because she's suddenly become a lot more interested in Velvet's home life. It's not long before she's scheduled another meeting to discuss Velvet's job prospects.

Velvet sighs as she slips on her jacket. Magilou peers over the couch at her.

"You look nice," she says. For a brief, brief moment Velvet is surprised, but then Magilou goes on, "Dressing to impress someone?"

Velvet shoves her foot into her boot. "You know they prefer professional attire at these things."

The look on Magilou's face makes it clear she doesn't accept that explanation, but she doesn't pursue it. "Didn't you just have a meeting with her a week or two ago? How come I never really saw you talking to her before this?"

"Because I tried my best not to," Velvet grumbles. "I don't need anyone breathing down my neck to make sure I'm okay."

Magilou folds her arms across the back of the couch and lays her chin on them. "Yeah, it's probably the exact opposite, though."

Velvet pauses in lacing up her other boot. "What do you mean?"

"It's less that she's making sure you're okay, and more that she's waiting for you to screw up." Magilou shrugs. "Hume has a reputation, you know. She makes a _lot_  of ex-cons back into cons. One step in the wrong direction and bam, one new Go To Jail card. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, do not hope for parole ever again."

Velvet's brow furrows. "If that's the case, why hasn't she been hounding me more? You'd think she'd be over here with a magnifying glass looking for faults in my behavior."

"Dunno." Magilou flops back onto the couch. "Maybe she thought leaving you alone would encourage you to show your true colors. Maybe she was giving you a grace period? Or maybe you've only recently done something to make her think you're not going to meld perfectly back into society as an upstanding citizen!"

"You think?"

Velvet's gaze bores into the back of the couch, but Magilou clearly isn't thinking too hard about her own suggestions. All she says is, "Anyway, since you _are_  playing things pretty straight-laced nowadays, you might as well let her in and prove you don't intend to become another recidivism statistic. Maybe then she'll get off your case, yeah?"

For a moment longer Velvet lingers in the doorway, thinking. Then she grabs her keys and turns to the door.

"Don't eat all my food while I'm gone," she says.

Magilou's hand waves over the back of the couch.

  
* * *

  
Under most circumstances Velvet wouldn't even consider taking advice from Magilou, but for once, she might be on to something. After Eleanor grills her with the usual questions and Velvet answers as shortly as she can, she finally volunteers a suggestion of her own.

"If you're that desperate to check up on me, why don't you come to my place for dinner?" She keeps her voice casual, as if she just thought up the idea. "This Saturday. I'll cook."

Eleanor's eyes narrow. Velvet can practically see the wheels turning in her brain, scanning the offer for any kind of trap. But she must trust her parolee, because after a few seconds she nods.

"If you'd like."

They iron out the details, and Velvet heads home feeling a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

That night, she pauses in the doorway to her apartment and looks around. She cleans often enough that there isn't really anything to fix up before Eleanor arrives. All she needs to do is make sure Magilou doesn't leave anything indecent lying around that might raise suspicions.

Speaking of Magilou...

Velvet crosses over to the doorway leading to the kitchen and reaches above the frame. With a little effort she manages to pull down the sprig of mistletoe still fastened there. It was the last Christmas decoration still hung up - perhaps shameful, considering how long ago Christmas was, but they were having fun with it.

_Were_ , Velvet thinks again. She stares at the bristly little leaves for a while, but can't remember the last time Magilou tricked her into meeting her in the doorway.

Come to think of it, Magilou doesn't seem to be around. Velvet realizes with some surprise that she's only seen her twice this week, and suddenly the apartment feels too quiet. There's a pang of something dull and heavy in Velvet's chest as she gazes around the walls of the living room. Most of the Christmas decorations have been removed, not replaced, leaving the room plain and mostly bare, more like it was when Velvet moved in.

Well, at least Eleanor can't object to that, Velvet thinks, carrying the mistletoe to her room. The apartment may be boring, but that just means there's nothing in it to make Velvet look bad. And it's understandable, given her salary.

Velvet puts the mistletoe in the box with the rest of the holiday decorations Magilou left behind, and shoves it back in the closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this is wildly off-base about how parole works, I would love to be regaled with corrections. I'm not going to change anything though ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Eleanor shows up at 6:30 on the dot, just as Velvet expected. Whatever plans she may have had to snoop around the apartment get shoved aside as soon as she removes her coat; the air is heavy with the aroma of cooked meat and vegetables, and just enough spices to be enticing but not overwhelming.

"That smells amazing," she says, and follows Velvet into the kitchen with only a quick glance around the living room.

The food is just about ready, so without further ado Velvet invites her to take a seat at the modest table and pours them each a glass of sparkling cider from a new bottle.

The conversation starts out general - Eleanor compliments her readily on her cooking and asks about the recipe, and Velvet is happy to answer those kinds of questions. When Velvet gets up to put a new tray in the oven, Eleanor's attention drifts around the room and she comments on how orderly the kitchen is. There's a note of surprise in her voice throughout the conversation; Velvet is proud enough that she doesn't shut down any of Eleanor's inquiries, even the ones that are obviously not asked out of casual curiosity.

"So what about you?" she says when Eleanor pauses to clean up the sauce from her plate.

"Hmm?"

"You're always asking about my life. It's only fair that I ask about yours, right?"

Eleanor's brow creases. "That's not generally how it works, but... yes, I suppose it would be fair. I'd be glad to tell you about myself if it would make you more comfortable speaking to me."

Velvet brushes that sentiment aside with a wave of her hand. "You live alone, too? You agreed to come pretty readily, I mean."

"Yes, I do. We have that much in common."

"No family? Boyfriend? ...Girlfriend?"

At that Eleanor's cheeks color faintly. "N-No," she says, directing a hint of a shy smile at her plate. "No girlfriend."

 _Well, look at that_ , Velvet thinks, entranced for just a moment. _We have something else in common_.

She's just about to ask another question when she hears the front door opening and slamming shut. Velvet scowls, her flash of good cheer instantly melting into the open air, while across the table Eleanor looks toward the living room with mild alarm.

"I should have bolted that," Velvet mutters, right before Magilou strolls into the kitchen.

"Well, look who it is!" she announces. Her sly gaze fixes on Eleanor, her voice too loud, as usual. "You didn't tell me you had a _date_  tonight, Velvet."

"It's not a date," Velvet says evenly.

"A dinner party then?" Magilou pulls out the chair in between them and sits herself down, leaning her head on her palms and her elbows on the table. "And you didn't even invite me! Cold as ever."

Velvet starts to growl, "It's not a-" but she's hardly started the sentence when Magilou pipes up again. "Aaaanyway, aren't you going to introduce me to your date?" She winks at Eleanor and then adds, "Just kidding, I know you're her parole officer. You look just like the picture on her phone."

Eleanor blinks a few times. Velvet takes advantage of the lull to ask, in her best measured and non-aggressive tone, "Magilou, why are you here?"

"Well you didn't tell me _not_  to come," Magilou answers effortlessly. Velvet grits her teeth. "You're usually not busy at this hour, so..."

"That doesn't mean-" Velvet starts again. This time the sound of Eleanor clearing her throat cuts her off.

"Actually, this is fine," she says. "Part of my job is meeting with family and roommates, to get another perspective on your progress and behavior. Since you don't have either, Ms. Mayvin will have to do." Turning to Magilou, she says diplomatically, "You are Magilou Mayvin, correct? I'd appreciate any insights you could offer."

In response, Magilou laughs for several seconds. Eleanor's face settles right back into the same confusion it did when Magilou walked in, with a touch of indignation this time.

When she quiets down, Eleanor asks, "Well?"

Magilou's head plops back into her hands. "No insights in sight, I'm afraid."

Eleanor frowns. "There must be _something_  you can tell me about her."

"Oh, there's _so_  much I could tell," Magilou purrs, and the smile twisting her lips makes apparent exactly what kind of information she means.

But Eleanor doesn't bite. "Well, in that case I'll have to conclude that you're adjusting well. There don't seem to be any major problems."

"Except this one right here," Velvet grumbles, tilting her head at Magilou. Eleanor either doesn't hear her or chooses not to comment.

The oven beeping saves them from continuing that conversation. Velvet stands up, and Magilou stays exactly where she is.

"So, who's ready for dessert?" she says. "This whole rooms smells like baked cinnamon, and I'm starving!"


	5. Chapter 5

Despite Magilou's intrusion, Velvet decides the dinner was a success. Eleanor already seems more relaxed the next time Velvet sees her, and she sets their meeting dates a bit farther apart, to Velvet's relief.

She remembers at each of those meetings what Magilou said about Eleanor's reputation.  _She makes a_ lot _of ex-cons back into cons._  Has she given up on Velvet, then? Has Velvet proven her intention of staying out of prison for good?

Velvet could almost think so, until Eleanor asks her to come to her office when she gets off work. It's not a real meeting, she says - she just wants to talk for a minute. Velvet grumbles about how they could have "just talked" on the phone instead, but obediently shows up anyway.

Eleanor must be just getting off work herself, because she meets Velvet in the hallway outside her office door. There's an early evening hush in the empty hall; probably most of the workers in her building have already gone home.

"So?" Velvet says, crossing her arms over her chest. "What did you want to tell me?"

Eleanor takes a breath. "There was an incident yesterday," she starts. "At the police station. None of the officers were seriously injured, but it caused some alarm. Especially because the chief was present at the time."

As soon as that information sinks in, Velvet bristles. "What, and you think I was involved? Trust me, if I wanted to get to Artorius I know how to find him. I wouldn't storm a station full of officers."

Eleanor looks alarmed at that announcement, but she calms herself quickly. "I'm not saying you were involved. The police already have a suspect. I just wanted to check on you."

Velvet huffs. "Right. And make sure it wasn't another _friend_ of mine, huh?"

"Do you have to jump to conclusions about everything I say?" Eleanor's face has darkened; she might be regretting calling Velvet in the first place. Well, good, Velvet thinks. That's what she gets for playing detective.

Her mood suitably soured, Velvet says, "Why do you even care? I thought you loved throwing thugs like me back in prison where we belong." That's utterly uncalled for, she realizes the moment the words have left her mouth, but right now she just wants to go home.

"That's not-" For a moment Eleanor looks affronted, clearly about to argue, but then she changes tack. "Because this is dangerous," she says instead. Her eyes look like they're about to brim over; Velvet has to resist rolling her own. It's not the first time the crybaby has teared up during a heated discussion. "People _die_ out there."

"Yeah, yeah," Velvet says, shoving her hands in her pockets and starting to turn away. "Getting involved with the wrong crowd can kill me, et cetera et cetera. I've heard all your scare tactics before."

"It's not always about _you_ ," Eleanor says, and there's a force to her voice, almost a hiss, despite the way she's wiping tears from her eyes at the same time. "It could be someone you don't even know. It could be someone who wasn't even involved. Like my mother..."

Her voice dwindles to hardly more than a whimper, and Velvet stops in her tracks. When she turns back around, Eleanor only sniffs, rubbing one eye.

Silence presses around them, awkward and heavy. Velvet can't quite bring herself to ask, or to leave. But Eleanor must be aware of what she's thinking, because she eventually goes on.

"She worked for a church. She was the farthest thing from a criminal you could find." Her voice is weak, wavering still, but she continues, "She had absolutely nothing to do with any gangs or underworld activity or anything like that - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She took the bullet to protect me, and..."

She trails off. Velvet says nothing.

"For the longest time I just couldn't understand. Why would anyone _do_ something like that... Did they not understand that they were putting strangers at risk? Or did they just not care?" She seems to consider the question for a moment, and then continues with more bitterness, "They were never put to justice, either. They all fled the scene, and were never caught."

For several seconds no one says anything. Finally Velvet ventures, "Is that why you went into this field?"

Eleanor continues to stare at the floor. "I don't know. I suppose so. It just seemed the right thing to do."

For the briefest moment, awareness flashes into Velvet's mind - that this might be a trick, a performance meant to draw out her sympathy and make her "change her ways." But the redness around Eleanor's eyes looks very real, and Velvet has spent enough time with her now to doubt Eleanor would even think of lying about something like this, or even playing up the truth strategically.

No, this is probably real. Eleanor is a victim of the gang wars that used to plague the city, and Velvet does feel the faintest tinge of empathy for her. After all, Celica's death was also...

She turns away and says, a little more gruffly than normal, "Well, don't worry about me. I may hate Artorius, but there's no sense in going after him now. I won't be shooting up any churches. Or police stations."

"That's reassuring," Eleanor says, with a touch of sarcasm but a bit more energy now.

After another awkward moment, Velvet says, "So is that all? Can I go home?"

Eleanor sniffs one last time and straightens up. "Yes, you can go. I'll call you about our next meeting."

"Right." Velvet doesn't waste any time before striding off down the hall, but stops abruptly when Eleanor says, "Velvet?"

She turns back around. "What?"

For a moment Eleanor's mouth opens and hangs there, halfway to a sound coming out. She still seems upset; Velvet can't guess at what it is she wants to say. But in the end, she shakes her head and all she says is, "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

Velvet relaxes, and starts down the hall again. "Yeah, no problem."


	6. Chapter 6

One of the universal laws Velvet has discovered is that whenever she finds out about something, Magilou probably knew about it yesterday. How in the world she does it, Velvet has no idea; she doesn't act like she has any friends, or even connections, and Velvet never sees her pick up a newspaper. But whenever Velvet brings a new topic up, the expression on Magilou's face always implies that she's already heard.

So she's not surprised when Magilou saunters in the next afternoon and casually asks Velvet about the attack on the police station. Velvet had looked it up, of course - not that the news told her anything, well, new. As always, the police were painted to be victims and heroes, and the culprit's identity and motives were left a mystery. Velvet had closed the article in disgust and pushed it out of her mind.

Magilou digs through Velvet's fridge until she finds her prize - a bowl of leftover pudding. Taking a generous portion for herself, she says, "Well, I know it wasn't you, because if it was, the police station wouldn't exist anymore. I bet you never leave a job half finished."

Velvet rolls her eyes and rinses off the last dish in the sink. "It wasn't me, because I'm here, trying to save up for a car."

"Motorcycle."

_"Car."_

Magilou shrugs. "So you're just giving up?"

"On what?" Velvet turns off the tap and dries her hands.

"Getting back at your guy!" Magilou nudges Velvet with her spoon. "Your brother-in-law. Artorius. I thought you hated him?"

"I do hate him," Velvet growls, rubbing a smudge of pudding off her right arm and ruefully feeling the clean skin under her fingers. Not like her other arm, marred forever because of _him_. Still, she manages to finish with, "But there's no sense in going after him now."

Magilou raises her eyebrows and continues to suck on her spoon. Velvet is just thankful that she doesn't try to respond with her mouth full.

"It won't bring my family back," she explains, "and it's probably impossible anyway. When he was just an officer in a small town, maybe. But he's moved up too far in the world. He's made the city's police force huge and over-militarized and above the law."

"All the more reason to take him out!" Magilou insists.

"Tch. It's either suicide, or a certain prison sentence, and next time I won't get parole." Velvet turns toward the doorway. "You can kill him if you want, but I'm out."

"Ehh." Magilou dumps her bowl in the empty sink. "It would be no fun without you. I don't actually care, anyway. I'm just a little surprised." Before Velvet can get to the living room, Magilou adds, "I guess your P.O. is actually getting through to you."

Velvet turns around sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"

But Magilou only shrugs again. "You're really getting into this normal-civilian thing. It's not a bad thing, I guess. Just didn't think you were the type to be reformed." Resting her hands behind her head, she slips past Velvet and waltzes away. "Never underestimate the power of a pretty face!"

 _I'm not- She's not-_ Several different attempts to argue materialize at once and tangle up on Velvet's tongue. It's not _Eleanor's_  doing. Velvet isn't doing this to impress her, or even prove her wrong. Not chiefly, anyway.

But as Magilou flops down on the couch, her words continue to unsettle Velvet. She is trying to go back to having a normal life, even if it is sometimes hollow and frustrating, and Eleanor does have some role in that. Why does that thought bother her?

To distract herself, she says, "Where have you been, anyway? I haven't seen you all week."

Magilou closes her eyes. "Busy," she answers.

Velvet waits, but Magilou says nothing else. That's it? No theatrics, no obvious exaggerations? Usually she avoids conversations she doesn't want to have by talking endlessly without really saying anything, not by just... not talking. This is almost _more_ annoying.

But if she doesn't want to explain, no amount of pursuing it will make her do so, so Velvet sits down in the chair across from her and doesn't ask again.


	7. Chapter 7

Velvet decides the problem with Eleanor is that she's making her _think_  too much.

Well, it's not Eleanor herself, per se. Magilou's remarks manage to get under Velvet's skin more than she would like to admit, and suddenly she's seriously considering the path she's on. For a long time now she's been living day to day, focusing on her bank account, her performance at work, clothes and groceries and little else. Sure, the idea of getting a car has lodged itself in the back of her mind, but that's still a short-term goal, meant only to make her other chores go faster. And even though she's been entertaining the idea of getting a new job, she doubts any switch she could make now would have any huge impact on how she's living.

Eleanor has taken her dissatisfaction seriously, though, and now seems intent on helping Velvet get hired somewhere else. She arranges for them to meet at a cafe, just a quick discussion between other engagements, and for once Velvet doesn't dread going - though her lack of irritation makes her irritated for a different reason.

Eleanor is already waiting for Velvet when she arrives. Her crisp suit implies that she's on her way to a court hearing, probably; Velvet almost feels underdressed in her work uniform.

"I'm sorry for the short notice," Eleanor says as Velvet sits down. "But I'm glad you could make it. I wanted to tell you that an opportunity has come up, and I can put your name forward if you'd like me to."

Velvet raises her eyebrows. Having the support of the Department of Corrections would go a long way towards getting her an interview.

"What kind of job is it?"

"It's nothing exciting." Eleanor looks almost apologetic. "I've been informed of a business looking for someone to do some steady janitorial work, along with moving furniture and such. I noticed your house is immaculately clean, and I know you can perform that kind of physical labor, so I thought maybe you'd be interested? The pay isn't amazing, but it comes with benefits, and it's centrally located."

For a minute Velvet considers. She can't say she's surprised at the type of work Eleanor is suggesting; she doesn't have much of a skill set outside housework and heavy lifting, and when Eleanor first started searching for a job for her they quickly decided she wasn't well-suited for customer service. Really, this is about the best she can hope for.

"...Yeah," she says, "I guess I could apply. Can you get me more info?"

Eleanor smiles, obviously pleased to hear Velvet finally interested in one of her proposals. "Of course. I'll text you the details next time I'm back in my office."

"Okay," is all Velvet says. This may be the first time Eleanor has really smiled at her... at least, Velvet doesn't remember her smiling before, because she's noticing now for the first time how pretty she is when she's relaxed.

"I have to warn you, though," Eleanor goes on, and Velvet snaps back to attention. "This may not be a permanent full-time position, and I'm not sure it's anything that could lead to a career."

"That's fine," Velvet says. "I don't need a career, I just need to save up for now."

Eleanor nods, and repeats, "For now." She takes a drink of her coffee, and then asks, "Do you have any thoughts on a career, though? For later?"

Velvet frowns. "No."

"What about when you were a kid? What did you want to do?"

Velvet has to think. "Honestly, there wasn't much I wanted to do. I just wanted to be with my family... I guess I figured the rest would work itself out."

She can't decipher the look on Eleanor's face as the other woman peers at her. Pity? Confusion? _She's probably had her life planned out since she was ten_ , Velvet thinks, with just a trace of bitterness. _Not all of us get that, you know. Big aspirations, a career path, a dream job..._

"Have you ever considered going back to school?" Eleanor asks.

Velvet toys with the lid on her own cup. "I'm a high school dropout. You really think I belong at college?"

"It's not a matter of belonging or not." Eleanor gives her a sympathetic smile. "Besides, you only dropped out because of the trial, right? And you got your GED from the prison Education Department. That's all you need."

"Academia's... not really my thing," Velvet insists.

"Well, you should think about it, at least." Eleanor stands up. "I think you'd have a real shot at going somewhere with some more education."

There's a disagreement on the tip of Velvet's tongue, but it gets stuck there as she watches Eleanor straighten her jacket. She hardly seems to be the same person who accused Velvet of attacking the police, who apparently swore to put as many released criminals back in jail as she could. Is she actually trying to make Velvet's life _better_ now?

"If you'll excuse me," she says, "I have a hearing to sit in on. I'll get you that information, and we can go from there."

"Okay," Velvet says again, and then manages, "...Thanks. For helping me out with this."

"Of course," Eleanor says, and smiles again, that disarming smile that keeps making Velvet forget what she was going to say. "It's a pleasure to see you trying so hard to move on."

Velvet wants to roll her eyes, or make some sarcastic remark, or snort disdainfully, but somehow she doesn't, and when Eleanor leaves she almost agrees that it might be a pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things I have written: the climax of this fic, half the sequel, the epilogue to the series, snippets from beyond that  
> things I haven't started: the next chapter  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is like twice as long as usual but it doesn't make sense to split it, so... two for the price of one

Velvet can hardly believe it, but she manages to get the job Eleanor told her about, and even once the process is complete she finds herself speaking to Eleanor more and more - sometimes even when Eleanor is off the clock. It's a far cry from the autumn and winter months when they did their best to avoid each other, and each new message from her parole officer felt like a new sentence.

On one of Velvet's days off she agrees to let Eleanor in to her apartment for a routine inspection, and after cleaning the living room Velvet pauses. Except where she's working, the apartment is dark; the heating is off; the rooms are empty. None of Magilou's crap is lying around the way it used to, not even any dirty dishes - she hasn't been here since the last time Velvet cleaned. The thought strikes Velvet as odd, then relieving, then concerning.

All the same, it's not surprising. Magilou has always been flighty, easily amused and easily bored. Maybe Velvet's new domestic routine just doesn't appeal to her. In any case, having her gone for the day is a blessing. She's not eager to have Magilou busting in on more of her meetings with Eleanor.

As expected, Eleanor shows up right when she said she would, this time carrying a small tin of shortbread. "A gift," she says. "As thanks for dinner the last time I was here."

Velvet takes the tin gingerly, like Eleanor is offering her a bomb, and stares at it for a moment. "Oh... uh, thanks. You like tea, right? I just made some."

"That would be lovely." Eleanor flashes that smile again, but this time Velvet is ready, and she retreats into the kitchen without losing her train of thought.

However, as they go about the inspection, Velvet's attention drifts from the things Eleanor is examining to Eleanor herself. Following her around while Eleanor takes a quick glance through the apartment - a process made fast and easy by how clean and how bare it is - Velvet is in a fine position to size her up. She dresses well, in clothes that are professional without looking dull. Her hair is always pinned back immaculately; Velvet can imagine her fixing it several times a day to keep up her tidy appearance. Where Velvet's eyes eventually settle, though, is the holster tucked between Eleanor's hip and the handbag slung over her shoulder.

Velvet is well aware that she carries a gun. She works with people with a history of violent crime; it's perfectly natural for her to be armed on house calls, where a recalcitrant parolee might lash out if things don't go well. It's probably just part of her routine, she reminds herself; it has nothing to do with Velvet herself. It's not like Eleanor is expecting any need to use it.

Still, it gets Velvet thinking about things she had pushed out of her mind lately. Like that Eleanor must have undergone some form of police training to be certified as an armed officer - training with the metropolitan police department - under Artorius's command.

Unconsciously she runs her hand up and down her left sleeve, and she's not very responsive when Eleanor announces that Velvet is making her reports awfully easy lately.

They settle in the living room with their tea to talk over a few things, but Velvet is hardly focused. She nods along and answers Eleanor's questions without volunteering any of her own.

"It's too early to seriously consider this," Eleanor concludes, "but there is a chance your supervision requirement can be terminated early if you perform well enough. I want you to keep that in mind." Velvet nods again, her hand drifting over her arm, and Eleanor asks, "Are you all right? You've been holding your arm a lot today."

Velvet jolts, glancing down and pulling her hands apart. "Oh... It's nothing, just itching lately."

Eleanor's gaze turns sympathetic. "Do your scars still hurt?"

She's seen them before, Velvet reminds herself; she wasn't always able to cover her whole arm during those first few meetings with her assigned officer. It's only been since then that she's adopted her new "full-sleeve only" style, with arm warmers and gloves when that's not possible.

"Sometimes," Velvet admits. "Mostly it just itches."

"Do you have some good lotion? I've heard that moisturizers really help with burn scars."

"I do, but I guess I haven't been using it as much lately. The cold weather doesn't help either. It'll be fine once it's less dry."

"I hope so." Eleanor's hand drifts to her sternum. "I can only imagine how tough it must be to have your whole arm scarred like that. My only scars are much smaller, and fully healed..."

Velvet raises her eyebrows. "You have scars?"

"Not any recent ones," Eleanor explains. "But I got an awful set of cuts below my collar bones when I fell down into some broken glass as a kid. It was when my mother... Well, you know what happened."

"You told me the gist of it," Velvet says, and for a minute they lapse into silence, each contemplating their old wounds.

Eleanor breaks it by saying, "Velvet, can I ask you a question?"

"Might as well," Velvet says, starting to regain a little of her flippancy. She wouldn't say she's _comfortable_ with Eleanor, but, well... maybe not as tense as she used to be.

Eleanor still hesitates. "Why... Why did you do it?" At Velvet's expectant pause she clarifies, "Why did you try to kill Chief Artorius?"

The look Velvet gives her might have a little disdain mixed in with her disbelief. "You can't still not know that."

"I know what you said at your trial, and the hearings, but... do you actually believe that he tried to kill your brother?"

"He didn't try to, he _did_ ," Velvet growls, and then realizes too late that this might be a trap. She had to pretend what she did was wrong in order to get herself out of prison, and she'll have to keep pretending if she wants to stay out. If Eleanor knew she still wanted to wrap her hands around Artorius's traitorous neck, would she consider her dangerous? Too dangerous to be out on the streets? Not capable of going back to a normal, healthy life?

For some reason, that thought stings a little, but the memories have sent too much anger coursing through Velvet's blood for her to care.

"But he was your brother-in-law," Eleanor insists, as if that matters. "Why would he...?"

"He got a fortune out of it, didn't he?" Velvet points out. "The insurance sure paid out nicely. Both the house, and my brother's accidental death policy."

Eleanor looks like that thought had never even occurred to her, and she wishes it still hadn't. "You think he did it for the money? He's never cared about money! He..."

"You don't know him," Velvet spits. "He pulls people in with that lord-and-savior shit, but I lived with him. We were going into terrible debt when it happened. After Celica's hospital bills and funeral, and Laphi's constant medical care..."

"That's..." Eleanor is clearly troubled, staring at the rug in between them. "But it was ruled an accident..."

"Because the police got there too late. I didn't!" Velvet has to resist the urge to jump out of her seat. "He didn't even _try_  to save Laphi!"

Eleanor looks back up. "What did you expect him to do?" she says, though without malice. "He had his own safety to think about. Running into a burning building goes against all reason. I-I mean..." she adds with a jolt, staring at Velvet's arm, but Velvet cuts her off.

"It wasn't too late when I got there. He could have done _something_. He could have gotten the hose from the garden, or called for help from the neighbors. He could have panicked! But he was just standing there in the yard staring at the fire like he didn't care. He barely even tried to stop me from going in."

"He was probably in shock..." Eleanor mutters.

As her sudden burst of anger ebbs, Velvet deflates back into her armchair. "Why am I even telling you this? You'll never believe me over him."

"It's..." She's surprised when Eleanor actually answers. "It's not that I don't _want_  to believe you. The more we talk, the more I feel like you are a... basically honest person. So it just doesn't make sense... I want to understand what really happened."

"Why don't you ask _him?"_ Velvet says with half a sneer.

"People have tried. He doesn't like to talk about it. You know he has a reputation for being rather taciturn."

Velvet stares past her, more tired than anything else now. "He was always like that. Quiet, serious... but caring. Or at least, he pretended to be."

This time Eleanor doesn't question her skepticism. They sit in silence for half a minute longer before Eleanor clears her throat and stands up.

"Well, I have other work to attend to. Thanks for the tea. I'll call about our next meeting."

Velvet returns her goodbyes halfheartedly and stays seated while Eleanor leaves. Even years after it happened, the questions still leave her tense and unsettled. It's not something Velvet wants to think about; Artorius was wrong, one way or another, and nothing will change her mind. Why can't Eleanor just let things be?

It's several minutes before she drags herself back into the present enough to realize what Eleanor said, and the thrum in her chest distracts her from the memories, just a little. So Eleanor wants to trust her...

Velvet sighs and gets up to make another cup of tea. In that case, maybe there's hope for them yet.


End file.
